


Coconut

by rudbeckia



Series: Random Worlds [19]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 10:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12033597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Armitage is on holiday, trying to avoid Brendol and Maratelle. Walking along the beach path, he stops to admire a handsome young man selling coconuts.





	Coconut

Armitage scowled behind his sunglasses and hid under his wide-brimmed hat. His linen shirt stuck to his back, the perfectly flat planes he’d ironed into the crisp fabric already crumpling with his slight movements in the oppressive heat. He turned to go back into the air-conditioned refuge of the hotel atrium but Maratelle called him back in exasperated tones.

“Armitage, we are here to soak up some winter sun. I know Miami wasn’t your preferred destination but you really must consider the needs of others now and then. Your father and I happen to like South Beach.”  
Armitage snapped, “well good for you. I hate it. It’s too hot, too bright and there are too many people wandering around in too few clothes. I don’t see why we couldn’t have _soaked up some winter sun_ somewhere more temperate. I suggested Tierra del Fuego, but _no,_ you had to have heat.”

Maratelle turned away. She knew better than to engage in an argument with her stepson. Anyway, Brendol was just emerging through the glass doors of the hotel and he flipflopped his way across the pale marble floor of the terrace. Armitage screwed up his face in disgust.  
“Father, put your shirt on. You look like a—“  
Brendol silenced his son with a gesture and a look. “I look like an important man on a much needed vacation. If you’re going to be miserable, go do it alone.”

Armitage seethed in silence. He knew that look probably meant trouble later. He watched Brendol and Maratelle turn right towards the beach, then turned left and walked away.

He didn’t walk far into town. His feet itched and swelled inside his canvas shoes and his skin chafed wherever it sweated onto fabric. The white linen shirt he’d put on as defence against instant sunburn proved inadequate and Armitage felt the telltale tingle along his shoulders. His hat provided shade for his face and ears, but rivulets tickled his sideburns and dripped from his jaw. People meandered aimlessly, stopping randomly in his path to look at menus, and restaurant staff tried to entice him into sitting at their sramped, gaudy pavement tables and ordering too much food.

Food was the last thing on his mind in this heat. He needed a drink. Armitage walked past a bar selling slushies in six different colours and sneered at the childishness of it, although he was sorely tempted by the cool looking blue. He turned to cross the busy street, deciding that the beach might be cooled by sea breeze that the buildings blocked. There would be bars, he thought. Ones with aircon and a view of the ocean where he could sip cocktails until he forgot about his family.

There was a path by the beach. It was busy, but at least the holidaymakers mostly kept to their own side of the path and Armitage strolled unhindered, smug that he had been correct about the temperature and more comfortable than he had been since he left the hotel. He walked with the beach on his right and hotels on his left, ignoring the trinket stalls and coconut vendors who called out dubious special offers from the side of the path. From the relative privacy of his dark glasses, Armitage watched one coconut seller whack off the top of a coconut with the swing of a machete, stick a straw in it and hand it to a bikini-clad woman. Cash changed hands and the vendor grinned, white uneven teeth showing between full, pink lips in a tanned face that was bordered by wavy, dark hair. A large hand grabbed another green-skinned coconut and shook it for the woman to listen, then a few deft strokes shaved the top and one final blow opened it. This one she handed to her companion and they walked off, slurping fresh coconut water through their straws.

“You want one too?” Armitage looked around, unaware that he had stopped to watch. The coconut vendor smiled at him and held out a coconut. “They’re really good. Only five bucks.”  
Armitage gave a derisive snort. “No. One, that’s a ridiculous price. Two, it looks disgusting.”  
“Oh come on. Try it.” The man held out his coconut again and beckoned Armitage over. “First one’s half price.”  
“No. It’s ridiculous.” Armitage moved closer, intending to walk past. “I’m civilised. That means I drink out of a glass. You should try it sometime.”  
The coconut man laughed in a way that made Armitage want to join in. “Tell you what.” He picked and chose from the half-dozen coconuts that remained. “You try this, totally free, and I’ll make a bet with you. If you’re impressed, you buy me a drink at the next beachfront bar. If you don’t like it then _I_ buy _you_ a drink.” He stuck out a hand. “My name is Ben. Deal?”  
Armitage felt a tremor of rebellion. He thought of Brendol and Maratelle and a dinner at which he would be expected to listen to outdated rhetoric and say nothing, and accepted the handshake.

“Well then, Ben. Impress me.” Armitage stood back to watch the coconut vendor at work. With a theatrical flourish, Ben whittled away the tough green skin then lopped off the top of the coconut, inserted a straw and handed it to Armitage. Armitage sipped and made a face.  
“It’s foul! Do people really drink this piss?”  
“Apparently not twice.” Ben laughed. “Guess I owe you a drink.”  
Armitage handed back the coconut and shook his head. “There’s no need.”  
“But we had a deal!” protested Ben with a little petulance. “Are you going back on a deal?”

Armitage took another step back, a second refusal ready on his tongue, then spied a large, greying-ginger greasy-haired man accompanying a petite brunette with a pinched face, leathery skin and what he considered a vulgar display of jewellery. They were ambling along the path, staring openly at sunbathers on the beach. Armitage stepped forward again and smiled at Ben.  
“Very well. Not a beachfront bar, though. Take me somewhere else. Now.”  
Ben grinned, sheathed his machete and stuck it in his belt, then called to one of the other vendors to look after his spot. “Glad you said that,” he admitted to Armitage as they walked away from the beach. “I could probably only afford one drink in a place like that. So, what changed your mind? Was it my natural charm or were you avoiding someone?”

Armitage scowled, anger bubbling just under his skin. “That’s none of your business!”  
Ben glanced at Armitage’s profile, brows pulled low and head down. “Okay. I get it. You’re with me because the alternative is worse. Hmm. Ex-girlfriend? Ex-boyfriend?”  
“Neither. It’s the old bastard who provided my Y-chromosome then fucked off for years because he was ashamed of me, and his wife, who is no relation.” Armitage spat out the word _bastard._ “I hate them. Brendol is a waste of space. He’s in my way. And his wife is a leech.”  
“Well,” Ben sighed. “I know what it’s like to have parents who are… not ideal. Mine sent me to live with my uncle because I was _difficult_ He had a kind of school for _kids like that_.”  
“Huh,” Armitage huffed. “There must be better things to discuss than the shortcomings of our recent ancestors.”  
They walked in slow silence until Ben patted Armitage on the arm and pointed. Armitage stared and laughed. “The _Empire’s End_? I know I have the accent but you don’t have to make me suffer an ‘English pub’ experience.”  
“No! It’s good!" protested Ben. "Come on.”

Ben led the way and Armitage followed. Inside the bar was dim and air conditioned. They ordered beer and found a table in a corner with leatherette bench seating. They sat at right angles, both able to watch the rest of the bar’s clientele. Ben sipped, hummed and stretched.  
“How are you planning to avoid your— Brendan and Margaret for the rest of your vacation?”  
Hux closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Please don’t spoil what might turn out to be a nice evening by asking questions like that.”  
“No! Sorry, I only meant you can—“ Ben stopped and looked away. Armitage frowned.  
“I can _what?”_  
Ben sighed and leaned his elbows on the table. He spoke just loud enough to be heard above the blaring Britpop. “You can stay at my place. I have space.”

Armitage leaned back against the shiny, deep red of the fake leather upholstery and watched Ben. Ben avoided eye contact at first then looked up. Armitage looked at him with cool curiosity rather than anger. “We met today. What on Earth makes you think I’d be willing to spend the night with you?”  
Ben shrugged. “Maybe you stopped to watch me at work because you find me attractive, and maybe you just wanted fresh coconut water. You came here with me so I figured maybe you’re not just after my succulent coconuts.” Armitage covered his mouth and laughed. Ben smiled, then grinned. “Come on, what’s so funny?”  
“It’s too perfect. All right, Ben, I accept your offer. For the next five nights, or for as long as we get along, I would like to be your houseguest. Then I can report back on the traditional _What I Did On My Holidays_ family chat that I spent all my time with a machete-wielding, coconut-selling maniac who never even bothered asking my name.”

Armitage sniggered at Ben’s look of horror. Ben recovered with a laugh. They finished their drinks, ordered more and finished those too, chatting for a while then lapsing into companionable silence. Once outside, Ben stopped, turned and took Armitage’s hands in his.  
“Um, when I said I had _space_ I meant I have a king bed. I only rent a room. I want you to come home with me. You know? But if you don’t want to it’s fine. Just say so.”

Armitage frowned and bit his lip, keeping hold of Ben’s hands. Eventually his face softened into a smile. “I can think of one thing that might spoil Brendol and Maratelle’s vacation more than me pissing off with some bloke I just met,” he said. “Come back to my hotel. I have a king bed and _room service.”_


End file.
